


Agony and Ecstasy

by addledwalrus



Series: Storytime [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 1960s, Age Difference, Anal Sex, Ancient Rome, Angst, Apologies, Assassination Attempt(s), Aunts & Uncles, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Beautiful, Bisexual Male Character, Black Male Character, Blood, Body Horror, Bondage, Boys in Chains, Bribery, Bruises, Burns, Castration, Chains, Character Death, Cleaning, Confessions, Cooking, Corporal Punishment, Corpse Desecration, Corpses, Corruption, Coughing, Cousins, Cruelty, Crying, Dark Comedy, Death, Death in Childbirth, Debauchery, Decapitation, Decapitation Kink, Depression, Desire, Despair, Disturbing Themes, Doctors & Physicians, Domestic Violence, Dresses, Driving, Dungeon, Electricity, Electrocution, Embarrassment, Emotional, Emotions, Evil Plans, Execution, Exes, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Exploitation, Exposure, F/M, Family Issues, Female Characters, Female Gaze, Flirting, Food, Force-Feeding, Forced Crossdressing, Forced Marriage, Friendship, Gen, Generation Gap, Graphic Description of Corpses, Grief/Mourning, Guards, Guillotine, Guilt, Heartache, Heartbreak, Heteronormativity, Hippies, Historical, Historical References, Hope, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Humiliation, Husbands, Inheritance, Innocence, Insults, Intense, Interrogation, Intimacy, Invasion of Privacy, Irony, Italian-American Character, Judgment, Justice, Kinky, Kissing, Knives, Law Enforcement, Lesbian Character, Libraries, Love, Love Confessions, Lust, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Madness, Male-Female Friendship, Masks, Master/Slave, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Misunderstandings, Molestation, Morbid, Murder, Murderers, Mythology References, Necrophilia, Nobility, Nudity, Objectification, Panic, Parent-Child Relationship, Parody, Passion, Pederasty, Pedophilia, Penises, Perversion, Photographs, Physical Abuse, Poison, Poisoning, Pop Culture, Prison, Protests, Psychological Trauma, Punishment, Racism, Racist Language, Rain, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to the Beatles, Restaurants, Robbery, Royalty, Same-Sex Marriage, Scandal, Scheming, Secret Crush, Secrets, Seduction, Self-Hatred, Serious Injuries, Servants, Sex, Sexual Slavery, Sexuality Crisis, Shame, Slavery, Slaves, Smut, Story within a Story, Storytelling, Strangulation, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Taxis, Terminal Illnesses, Threats of Violence, Touching, True Love, Underage Sex, Verbal Abuse, Violence, Violent Thoughts, Waiters & Waitresses, Whipping, Wishes, Wishful Thinking, Wives, Wooing, Work, Workplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-09-28 12:36:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17183120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addledwalrus/pseuds/addledwalrus
Summary: Three college graduates try to shock each other through the art of storytelling.





	1. Prologue

**1969**

* * *

Ingrid navigated her way around the peace activists scattered all over the grassy area in front of the library. Many of them held up signs that said such things as 'bring our boys back home' and 'give peace a chance', the latter of which she believed to be a line from a song by a band that her friend Patricia liked.

Whatever those words were, she had an afternoon shift to show up to and couldn't join the protesters' ranks however tempting it was.

_"Just imagine, how radical it would be if I let my hair down and started dressing like them. I could even stop waiting for a nice man to come along and have a secret arrangement with...with a..."_

She stopped at the top of the library steps and glanced behind herself while remembering just how unattainable her greatest desire was. People were more aware these days and she could never recover from the potential shame and disgrace if it became common knowledge.

It was obvious that she needed to keep living life the way her parents and ancestors had done, even if it started to eat her up inside.

* * *

Tony kept a photograph of ex-girlfriend Patricia in his wallet, for it was one of the few things that gave him solace in a life that now revolved around satisfying his employer and  traditional family.

He knew that it was about time that he made an effort to move on, what with her once again being able to live in comfort and apparently about to resume her career as a model.

_"She should hate me, if anything. I was the one who got her pregnant and almost ruined her future..."_

He remembered how he'd never even had a chance to see the baby, before her parents came to take control of things and deprive him of any chances at redemption.

His name being shouted loudly from the kitchen made it clear thar his break was over. He hurriedly slipped the photo of Patricia back into his wallet and headed back inside to bring another customer their meal.

Though his mother had once said that he was good at cooking for a boy, he was no match for the professional chefs in this restaurant.

A lone elderly woman sat at table nine and she smiled up at him almost dotingly.

"Here's the veal parmagiana you ordered, ma'am. Would you like a glass of water with it?"

"Why, that would be  _splendid_ , young man..."

He left to fulfil her wishes whilst envisioning Patricia aging into a dignified and classy dame like the one he was serving.

* * *

"Taxi! Taxi!"

Curtis slowed down and entered the nearest vacant parking space to pick up his next passenger.

As expected, it was another white salaryman whose smile faded the moment they entered the vehicle and saw his face reflected in the rear view mirror.

The ensuing silence went on for two minutes before Curtis knew that he'd have to 'break the ice' a little.

"Nice summer weather, ain't it?"

"Speak for yourself. I burn easily."

"I see. How's the family?"

"It's none of your concern." The salaryman grumbled whilst furrowing his gray eyebrows. "I wouldn't have boarded this taxi if I knew who you were."

Subtle words of discrimination no longer bothered Curtis and he began to speak about himself.

"I'm an only child. My Mom and Dad used to live together until she had to go to hospital. The doctors say..."

The thought of his mother lying in bed with most of her former strength gone caused his attention to stray and he would have run a red light if it weren't for his passenger intervening.

"Stop! Stop! What in the bloody hell is wrong with you?!"

Curtis slammed on the brake just as the driver behind them honked loudly. Both him and the salaryman were thrown forward slightly, but otherwise they were alright.

_"That...that was a close one. Whatever you do, please don't file a complaint..."_


	2. Escapades of a Countess

"Who is this guy here?" Curtis could only ask when he entered the study room to find Ingrid sitting opposite a dark-haired young man whom he did not recognize.

"This is Tony..." Ingrid replied before Tony could say anything. "Tony, this is Curtis. I met him last year and we wrote a newspaper article together."

Tony stared as Curtis took a seat.

"Are you hinting at a relationship, or are you both just friends?"

"We are just acquaintances." Ingrid stated while feeling a little offended. Curtis appeared to be confused.

"Huh. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought you and this pretty boy were a couple."

"No!" Tony exclaimed, briefly forgetting that he was in the library. Ingrid's eyes widened and she placed a finger to her lips, urging him to be quiet.

"Don't endanger my job because of your broken heart."

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Good. Now, unfortunately, there's only three of us here. I was expecting more people to come."

"It's not that bad. Just means less hassle."

"Thank you, Curtis." Ingrid said in gratitude as she handed out two pieces of blank paper. "We'll all start writing today and maybe we can meet somewhere next week to read our stories aloud..."

"One week? Fair enough." Tony uttered, his voice almost a whisper. "Any particular place you have in mind?"

"No. Not yet..."

* * *

The agreed date was deferred several times due to work and other commitments, until they were finally all free one Saturday two months later.

Tony's former roommate Donald Lombardi was stunned to see Curtis arrive with them.

"You two have got some nerve, bringing him along to my house."

"It's okay, Don. Nobody saw us..."

"Well, you might not be so lucky later. Maybe you could put a bag over his-"

Curtis rushed forward and shoved Don against the nearest wall before anyone could intervene.

"Say shit like that about me again and I'll break your pansy jaw. Understand?"

"Y-Yes..."

"Good." Curtis said menacingly as he let go of Don. "Now get us some refreshments. These two are hungry."

Don hurried off and the three of them sat down in living room. Tony turned to stare at Ingrid in the hope of receiving an explanation.

"One must be respectful at all times." She simply replied.

* * *

"Tony, I have to ask, are you alright with hearing my story?" Ingrid asked upon placing her cup of hot chocolate aside. "It is very personal and I did not write about you in a positive light."

Tony almost spat out his drink in alarm while Don snickered and Curtis grinned.

"Are...are you saying that I'm a villain?"

"In a way."

"Okay...well, it can't be  _that_ offensive. The worst thing I've ever done was..."

His voice trailed off as he remembered that she knew exactly what it was. He began to feel overwhelmed by guilt and realized that it wouldn't be hard at all for her to twist him into something despicable.

"I'm fine. You can start."

"Thank you. Be prepared."

Ingrid then picked up her finished story and started to read.

* * *

Once upon a time, in a faraway European land, there lived a lovely young woman named Patricia whom had just become a Countess in the wake of her father's death.

Amongst the physical traits that made Patricia so beautiful were her hazel eyes, shapely hips and alabaster breasts that many a man wished to squeeze and fondle.

The nineteen year old was initially adored by everyone, though things began to change one week during which she punished a lecherous servant by having him chained up in the dungeons and personally taking part in the whipping herself.

It was observed by nearby guards that she seemed to gain strong sexual gratification from the act and the rumor quickly spread throughout the estate.

Such hearsay was only given more weight when Patricia was approached by male suitor after the other. None of them could tolerate a so-called pain session with her, though a distant cousin by the name of Charlie was almost hardy enough.

A year passed after which she was still unmarried and other nobles in the country had all fervently decried her unorthodox pastimes.

It became clear to Patricia's chief advisor that drastic measures would have to be taken from that point on.

A few commoners were kidnapped and made to offer themselves to her under pain of death. Each of them gladly complied until they saw the whips, ropes and chains in her collection.

By that time, they would usually cry and beg for mercy, at which point Patricia belted them five times on the back just to get it over with.

"Oh Lord above, will I ever find a man who enjoys the taste of the lash?" She bemoaned once all of the candidates were gone.

Little did she know, her wish would come true three days later when a masked young man was caught trying to rob a local granary.

He was apprehended and brought before Patricia to receive her judgement. The outline of his face beneath the mask and the way his clothes had been torn in the earlier struggle were enough to arouse her desire.

"Unmask him. I want to see every trace of fear."

One of her guards seized the young man by the face and pulled away his mask as ordered. A couple of handmaids soon sighed in pleasure and Patricia felt her pulse race.

Intense brown eyes stared defiantly back as if he were daring her to tame him. She stopped and found herself fixating on his perfect lips and the forbidden pleasures they seemed to promise.

He was exquisite indeed and she had to have him, lest she go mad.

"What will we it be for him, my Lady? The dungeon, or the stocks?"

"Neither. Give him a bath and restrain him in my chambers."

The young man did not resist as he was taken away. He simply gave a smirk that left many confused.

* * *

"What is your name, thief?" Patricia asked coldly as she approached the now shackled young man whilst brandishing a riding crop.

"Antonio." He replied with not a trace of terror in his voice.

"And for reason did you steal from that granary?" She went on, reaching out to stroke his naked back. His skin was unbelievably smooth for a common criminal.

"To help out some starving peasants. It isn't fair that they should work so hard, yet be left with so little."

"A noble one, aren't you?"

"No. Far from it."

"Whatever your intentions, you still deserve punishment. That is what I am here for."

"A lady like you, delivering her own-"

She cut his sentence short by bringing the riding crop right against the center of his back. He cried out in pain and she prepared to strike him again.

Something changed after the third one. His struggles became less desperate and it seemed like he was beginning to experience pleasure instead.

"More please..." He begged with a toss of his head. "You sure know how to treat me badly..."

"What...what is this madness?!" Patricia exclaimed, withdrawing her riding crop while unable to believe what she'd heard.

"It isn't torture if it comes from you. Only cruel love..."

"Love?"

"Have you ever felt it?"

"I...I don't know. Nobody has ever shown me..."

"Well, I can..." Antonio whispered seductively. "A lovely creature like you should not have to go without it..."

Patricia tossed the riding crop aside and hesitated. On one hand, she didn't know what he really had in mind, yet on the other, he was the first man to ever demand that she continue.

Not to mention, he was beautiful and she wanted him all for herself.

She gave in to temptation and retrieved the key that would free him from his shackles.

He sighed heavily as his arms fell free. Patricia reached out to touch his bruises and he rashly grabbed her by the wrist.

"Unhand me now, I order you..."

He let go and she relaxed. She looked directly into his eyes before making her proposal.

"Let me dress your wounds. It is an act of love, is it not?"

"Why, yes..."

He sat down on the bed so that she could begin cleansing his body with warm water. It felt heavenly and he closed his eyes in bliss.

He did not expect to feel her lips meet his. They turned out to be as sweet as the rest of her and he couldn't complain.

"Do you love me?" She asked innocently upon pulling away.

"How could I not? You're an angel in the flesh..."

They kissed again, before he tore open her corset. Her breasts fell free and consumed by lust, he quickly ripped away the rest of her dress.

They copulated all night and there were very few parts of her body that did not feel his tender caress.

* * *

They married not long after that night and the news caused a huge scandal all through the country. Many nobles sought to put an end to their union and a few even resorted to assassination attempts.

One night, Antonio drank some poisoned wine that was meant for Patricia. He fell out of his chair and declared his eternal love before dying in her arms.

Patricia's advisor wanted to hold a funeral, but she refused. After all, she could not bear the thought of burying her husband six feet under and never seeing him again.

She fired the advisor so that she could freely leave Antonio's corpse in her chamber and continue to sleep with it.

One day after his death, she tried to embrace him but did not get any comfort because of how cold he had become.

After three days, he was discolored all over and clammy to touch. The smell of his decaying flesh was also terrible, so she ordered a bucket of rotten fish to be placed outside the door.

After one week, Antonio's body had bloated to twice it's original size. Flies had begun feeding on him and laying eggs wherever they could.

Afte two weeks, what used to be Antonio was now nothing more than a maggot infested hunk of meat that expelled toxic gases and oozed gooey pus. Patricia still declared her love for him however and when she leaned forward to kiss his nonexistent lips, his jaw simply detached from the rest of his face.

"You naughty, naughty boy..." She said with a deranged smile while trying to shove the jaw back in place. "Hurry up and make love to me..."

She pulled off his pants and mounted his shrivelled penis before rocking herself gently. Her attempt to caress his chest resulted in a huge chunk of flesh being torn away, three ribs now exposed to the hot summer air and at least ten maggots squirming through her fingertips.


	3. The Sorry Life of Young Sporus

Tony felt two pairs of eyes settle on him as Ingrid finished her story. He clutched his own pages whilst wishing that he could simply fade out of existence then and there.

It wasn't the details of his own body decomposing that bothered him, for he was all too aware of his own mortality. It was the fact that Ingrid had written about his former girlfriend engaging in acts of sado-masochism and necrophilia.

Patricia had never exhibited any such depraved tastes when they were together, but he didn't feel sure about many things these days. For all he knew, she could have changed for the worse and the thought was enough to make his heart ache again.

"Tony, if my story has disturbed you, then I apologize. It is not meant to be taken literally."

Tony focused on Ingrid uneasily before asking for explanation.

"Well, I don't see any deeper meaning in my dead body being violated like that..."

Don chuckled while Curtis maintained a straight face.

"There isn't. It just happened to be the ending I thought most entertaining."

"You...you call that sort of thing entertaining?"

"If you've ever seen the literature and movies from Sweden, you would understand..."

"Then, what about everything else?"

"A testament to how much Patricia still-" She replied, only to be interrupted by the opportunistic Don.

"So, you're Swedish?" Don asked flirtatiously as he sat down beside Ingrid.

"Yes. I thought everyone knew."

"Well, not me. I had no clue about your country's cinema either. I thought it was mostly pornography and exploitation..."

"Exploitation?" Ingrid remarked in disbelief. "You are mistaken. It is you Italians who produce such rubbish..."

"Rubbish? It's not rubbish, it's art!"

"What sort of art? Where is the intelligence?"

"Everywhere. You just can't see it..."

Ingrid looked ready to tear out Don's throat with her own bare hands. Tony swallowed while thinking that he was the cause of such tension and wondered whether he should intervene.

He made up his mind, but was beaten to it by Curtis.

"Whatever bad blood your countries might have between each other, leave it 'til later. You people seem to disagree about everything... "

Tony found his opportunity to speak and couldn't help but smile a little at the idea of Italians trying to cross an entire continent just to invade Sweden.

He had written a semi-biographical story about the Emperor Nero and now realized that it would be far more sickening if he focused on just one particular aspect.

"Don, Ingrid..." He addressed the pair from across the room. "I think you should listen to my story before you debate further..."

* * *

"Out of my way! Let me see her!"

The Emperor Nero pushed his way past the two attendants and charged into the chamber where his wife Poppaea lay, enduring a painful labor.

"Your Majesty cannot come in here! This is a-" One of the palace's midwives protested as she approached.

Nero was unwilling to pay heed and with one swing of the arm, he shoved the hapless woman aside so hard that her face collided against the floor. She got up with great difficulty and simply ran away from his sight whilst whimpering in pain.

"Poppaea, my sweetheart! Love of my life!" Nero wailed passionately, falling to his knees before his wife in such a way that was somewhat amusing to those present, despite the grave situation. "Stay with me, please!"

The frail woman lying helplessly on the bed was just a shadow of her former self, as she slowly opened both eyes and moved her pallid lips.

"Lucius, my husband..." She uttered quietly, addressing him by his birth name instead of his regnal one.

"What is it, my love?!" Nero pleaded, grabbing her hand so that they could touch one last time.

"...you are an ass and an imbecile. I am happy to leave you..."

She gave a final gasp and closed her eyes. Her wrist became limp and Nero soon realized that she was dead.

"Poppaea!" He cried out, letting go of her hand before tilting his head up toward the ceiling. "Poppaea..."

* * *

Guilt and grief overwhelmed Nero during and after Poppaea's state funeral. He couldn't rid himself of the thought that kicking her in the stomach during an argument was what had caused the stillbirth and her death.

It was clear now that while they had never really complemented each other as a couple, the good moments had still outweighed the bad.

The empty space beside him each time he lay in bed for the night was more than enough to drive him mad.

He could still hear her voice often, whether it was while he was in solitude or surrounded by his subjects, although his personal doctor told him that it was but a symptom of his sadness.

"Like any illness, it will pass if you take care of yourself. In time, you will forget about her and find happiness with somebody else, your Majesty."

But Nero did not want to forget. Poppaea's combination of beauty, intelligence and determination had ensured he couldn't bring himself to accept anything less in a spouse again.

It was during one summer day that he saw her face as it had looked when they'd first met. He blinked and stopped walking, which startled his bodyguards.

"Why stop, your Majesty?"

"I saw her. I saw Poppaea..." Nero replied, pointing ahead at the figure standing out in the garden.

Both guards were barely able to suppress their laughter.

"Your Majesty, that is no Empress. Only a lowly slave boy..."

Said slave boy straightened up and inadvertently allowed Nero a better glimpse of his appearance.

"You see that?" Nero insisted, unwilling to give up. "You look at that face and tell me it isn't her!"

One of the guards craned his neck before sighing in resignation.

"My apologies, your Majesty. There is a strong resemblance, but that is all there is. That boy will one day grow into a man and his youthful looks will fade."

Nero heard the guard's words and saw an opportunity unlike any other. Even though he could no longer have Poppaea, he could still enjoy the company of this boy in the meantime.

"Bring that boy to me." He ordered the guards. "I would like to inspect him thoroughly."

* * *

Fourteen year old Sporus grew tense as soon as he noticed the guards approaching him.

His immediate thought was that he had done something wrong and would be punished severely, so he stepped back in a futile attempt to evade them.

They grabbed hold of him regardless and dragged him all the way to where the Emperor waited.

The man's bold regalia and dignified face were enough to bring a tear to Sporus's eye. He wanted to look away, yet he was also tempted to admire the trappings of royalty.

"What is your name, pretty young one?" The Emperor suddenly asked, causing Sporus to jump in alarm.

"Sporus..."

"I see. Guards, lift up his tunic."

One of them obeyed before Sporus had a chance to react. The hem of the poor boy's garment was pulled up so that the Emperor could clearly see his loincloth. His face turned pale from the shame.

"Take that thing off him."

The loincloth was pulled away in one swift motion, exposing Sporus' still hairless genitals to the three grown men. He whimpered and struggled to free himself, as the Emperor of all people reached down to fondle them.

"So nice and tender, but I see no use. Bring my doctor here and we shall sort them out..."

* * *

"Mother...help me please..." Sporus sobbed, at his wit's end while three young women held him down and the sound of a knife being sharpened came from the next room.

The palace doctor soon emerged with a solemn expression on his face.

"I do not wish to do this, but his Majesty has ordered me to. I will therefore make it as quick as I can..."

The women pinned Sporus down harder, before the doctor placed the blade of his knife right against the boy's genitals with one hand and held it gently with the other.

"Please, I don't want to..."

He cut straight down, causing Sporus to scream and thrash in agony. Blood spattered on to the face of one of the women and losing her composure, she let go of the fourteen year old's leg without thinking.

"MOTHER!"

"You foolish girl! Keep holding him down!"

It took a second cut to sever Sporus' genitals completely. The boy's screams became almost primal and his struggles were violent enough that all three women could no longer restrain him.

A male attendant came forward to cauterize the wound and hopefully put an end to Sporus's suffering. The burning was so intense that he simply went into shock and fell unconscious within seconds.

* * *

"Lay your eyes on my bride! Is she not beautiful?!"

The fifteen year old Sporus graced Nero's presence in the full regalia of an Empress as the guests all shouted words of praise.

The paralyzing agony of being castrated had long since faded, though he still felt the occasional stab of pain between his legs.

One such instance soon occurred again and he stared tearfully into the distance while forgetting about his surroundings.

He was the product of an affair between a Greek slave woman and her wealthy Roman master whom had sold him off due to the mistress' jealousy.

Now here he was, officially a free citizen as long as he continued to play the role once filled by the deceased Poppaea Sabina.

Everyone he met treated him like a delicate woman, yet all he wanted was to be admired and respected as the man he was inside.

He knew that he would lose his will to live if things did not change and began to contemplate painless ways to commit suicide, before Nero interrupted his thoughts.

"My lovely bride, are you not hungry?"

"No, my husband..."

"Well, that is a shame. The food here is the finest in all of our Empire and it would be ungrateful of you not to enjoy any of it."

Nero picked up a raw oyster with his bare hands and held it right in front of Sporus' mouth.

"Eat, my beautiful bride..."

"No, I really can't..."

"I said, eat!" Nero suddenly bellowed, shocking most whom were present.

At that, he forced Sporus' mouth open and shoved the oyster inside. The slipperiness was nauseating and Sporus very nearly gagged before forcing himself to chew like a good wife.

Sporus ate sparingly for the remainder of the banquet before Nero announced that it was time for them to return to their chambers.

He knew what was coming and meekly followed. The fact that he wasn't really a woman didn't matter to Nero, for the Emperor was rather fond of entering his partners from behind.

This was precisely what happened in bed that night. Sporus was forced to strip so that Nero could spread apart his smooth buttocks before penetrating his rectum.

He could only moan in pain while being rocked back and forth against his will. The aftermath left a terrible burning within his anus that made it difficult for him to walk straight.

* * *

He never did find the willpower to end his own life, which would have been fortunate if it wasn't for him being passed around by Nero's successors like he was some spoil of war.

He now belonged to Emperor Vitellius and had been given the so-called honor of playing the lead role in a reenactment of the rape of Proserpina.

His mother had told him a story about the goddess when he was a child, though she had used the Greek name of Persephone and would likely die of grief if she saw him now.

Calvia, his mistress of the wardrobe and only true remaining friend entered to help him get dressed for the show. She began to cry as soon as she touched him.

"I can't do this and condemn you to such humiliation..." She said quietly while tears ran down her face. "You deserve better..."

"There's no way for me to refuse. It'll be the end for me no matter what."

"Not unless we can help it." Calvia replied, her voice becoming firm. She reached beneath her stola and produced a small glass vial. "I brought this with me from my homeland. It's your easiest way out."

Sporus stared at the milky white liquid inside and contemplated his options.

"It contains snake venom. Your heart will slow down until it stops and they say it's like falling asleep..."

"Let me try."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Calvia passed the vial to him and he removed the top before raising it to his lips.

"Thank you for everything, Calvia."

"Goodbye, Sporus. I'll remember you always..."


	4. Barbaric Justice

Ingrid felt a glimmer of hope at the close of Tony's story. She hadn't expected him of all people to be aware of those whose sexual preferences lay outside the norm, though the situation he'd written about was far from an ideal one.

She started to ponder the ways in which two women could enjoy each other's bodies but found that her imagination was quite limited.

Every couple she came across comprised of a man and woman, whether it be in the movies or in real life, so anything that she could even slightly relate to was a blessing.

Of course, it would be unbecoming to actually admit to such sentiments. Therefore, she chose instead to revive her earlier dispute with Don.

"So, do you still believe that we are the perverted ones?"

"Well, no..." Don sighed in defeat and resignation. "Tony just left you far behind. He captured every man's worst nightmare..."

"Then I'm glad to be sane."

She turned away from Don to observe a proud looking Tony and a confused Curtis.

"I don't understand..." Curtis began while focusing on her. "You told me he was a sweet and romantic guy, but that story was..."

"Hey, writing about something doesn't mean I believe in it..." Tony countered. "Besides, I was only embellishing historical facts."

"Facts?" Ingrid muttered, her already large eyes widening even more. "They really did such things to that poor boy?"

"I hate to say it, but they did. Roman emperors tended to be real pieces of work."

"And to think, I once believed that the Vikings were savages..."

"I guess we're even now..." Don said with a shrug. "Does that mean we can kiss and make up?"

Ingrid slapped him hard across the face.

"No, try it with your friend."

"Wait, what? I'm a man and so is he..."

Don stood up and turned to glance at Tony in confusion. The other young man gave him a look almost as harsh as the one Ingrid wore.

He shifted his attention to Curtis and it was then that he noticed something surprising.

_"One black, one white, one blonde. Wait a minute..."_

"Huh? What are you looking at?" Curtis asked as he looked up from his pages.

"I just realized. You three are kind of like the Mod Squad."

"What?"

"Only difference is you aren't cops, Ingrid isn't sweet enough and Tony is way prettier than Michael Cole. But you, I think you've got the part down just fine."

"You sound like a lunatic, talking about us like we're TV characters."

"It's a groovy show. You should definitely watch it."

"I get it, pansy white boy. Why don't you let me start for once?"

"Oh, sorry. I forgot..."

Curtis took his eyes off Don and instead pored over what he'd wrote. It had in actuality taken him over a month to do all of the research necessary for his story and only the constant deferral of the deadline had been his salvation.

For that he was grateful, although his three protagonists couldn't feel the same when they'd all been let down so badly by the law.

* * *

**Case One**

Twenty-one year old Antonio was the only son of Don Caruso and reputed to be the comeliest young man in the Sicilian town where he lived.

Antonio's looks and his father's wealth made him a much sought after bachelor, though he himself had no real interest in getting married anytime soon.

"Father, you don't understand..." He tried to explain one night during dinner. "None of the women so far have satisfied my expectations. They all look like horses."

"Horses?!" Don Caruso sputtered, losing his temper and slamming one fist against the table. "What else did you expect from the ladies here?!"

"And that's the problem. Why must I only marry a fellow Sicilian? Are we not inbred enough?"

A fork flew through the air and narrowly missed Antonio's head. He did not flinch.

"You take those words back right now, you ungrateful simpleton! We Sicilians are the true Italians! Everyone up North is a traitor!"

"I'm going to bed, father. Good night."

Antonio left the table without a further word while ignoring all of his father's subsequent insults. There was no denying that the man had been infected by the old ways and the only remedy was death itself.

It was just a shame that he could never find the cold determination to do his father in. There was simply too much he owed as a result of being raised all the way from infancy.

And so it was that while lying in bed, Antonio wished for his father to die soon of natural causes. It was a callous thought, but he was desperate and saw no other way to get his freedom.

He had no idea that things were about to change forever with the arrival of his aunt and uncle.

They were a greedy and unscrupulous couple, but managed to hide it well behind their smiling faces.

Antonio wasn't fooled and tried all that he could to stay away, a difficult feat due to his aunt's sexual appetite. It wasn't uncommon for her to enter his room unannounced just to leer at him.

Each time, he simply forced her back out, knowing that his father wouldn't take complaints seriously.

* * *

Antonio's previous troubles would become insignificant a week later when his father suddenly coughed up blood before collapsing to the floor.

His aunt and uncle had rushed to help the man while denouncing his lack of activity, something that along with a mysterious vial found in his room, would be used as evidence of his guilt.

The town police arrested Antonio as a prime suspect and he was thrown into prison to await trial.

This was of course, exactly what his aunt and uncle had planned. They bribed other relatives to testify against their nephew in court and the addition of a ruthless lawyer helped seal the young man's fate.

Antonio was declared guilty of murdering his father and sentenced to be executed on the guillotine.

His lustful aunt came to torment him once again on his final night.

"My lovely nephew, you should have taken a wife when you had the chance. Perhaps then you would have had someone on your side."

Antonio did not reply, for the reality of his impending death had left him numb to everything else.

"We thought it would be a waste if a body as fine as yours became maggot food. That's why we'll be donating it to a medical institute. As for your head, well, your uncle would like a souvenir..."

It was those final words that broke what remained of Antonio's spirit. When morning came, he allowed the guards to bind his hands together and march him off to the town square without resistance.

The crowd whom were gathered there regarded him with morbid awe, as it was almost unheard of for a member of the nobility to be executed in public, especially one known for being so attractive.

A basket was placed at the base of the guillotine before Antonio was made to kneel. The executioner cut away the collar of his shirt with a pair of scissors, so that it wouldn't get in the way of the blade.

In the moments that he was forced to mount the scaffold, Antonio became all too aware of such things as a cold breeze against his bare skin and the taste of his own lips. It was the last time he would experience either and he tried to make his last minute count.

He refused a blindfold and obediently lay down on his stomach, before his neck was secured in the stock.

The basket down below was a cruel reminder of what would happen after his life ended. He took a deep breath and started counting the remaining seconds.

_"One...two...three..."_

The blade was released and it began to plummet with a deafening creak.

_"Four, five, si-"_

Antonio felt a sharp sting at the back of his neck and the last thing he saw before everything faded, was the basket coming up to meet him.

* * *

**Case Two**

"Darling...darling, are you alright? Talk to me..."

Inger tossed aside the axe and crouched beside her husband's body in terror. The man had just stopped moving and the blood oozing out of his ears let her know that something was terribly wrong.

"Anders?"

He didn't respond, so she got closer to the ground to check his face. His eyes had glazed over and the way his tongue stuck out made him look quite ghastly.

Inger suddenly smiled. She had killed Anders, which meant an end to all the beatings, threats and degradation.

The aftermath of her crime was messy indeed and she needed to cover it up quickly if she wished to enjoy a long life.

She fetched a shovel and buried Anders as deep as she could, before heading inside to clean herself and begin packing.

* * *

Neighbors grew suspicious after three days passed without a single sighting of Inger or Anders. The local constable was alerted and he led a party to investigate the house.

Loose soil in the garden helped them locate Anders' decomposing body and the cause of death was determined to be a heavy blow to the head.

As there were no witnesses and Inger had disappeared, a large search was soon conducted to find her as well.

She was detained in Stockholm four days later and subjected to hours of interrogation before she confessed.

"I...I did indeed kill him sir..." She admitted with a shaky voice, unable to tolerate being intimidated anymore. "...but I didn't mean to..."

"Didn't mean to? Shall I tell you all of the places he was axed?"

The blood drained from Inger's face and her lips trembled.

"I...I needed to protect myself. He said that he'd rather kill me than have a divorce..."

"I hear you."

"You understand?"

"Yes, but I have to tell you something. The law is the law, and murder is murder, regardless of intentions. I'm afraid we must try you accordingly."

Inger lost all composure as she was overwhelmed by guilt. She burst into tears and shortly afterwards, two guards entered to subdue her.

* * *

The trial itself was relatively short, for the evidence was considered irrefutable. As a commoner, she was to be hanged rather than receive the mercy of a swift beheading.

What the authorities failed to anticipate however, was the outpouring sympathy the public would have for a battered woman.

They called for her pardon even as she was marched up to the gallows and the noose placed around her neck.

Inger smiled wistfully at what she was hearing, despite knowing that it was all futile. This was the least that she deserved for taking a life and she was ready.

The judge gestured at the hangman and he pulled a lever to release the trapdoor beneath Inger's feet. It gave way and the rope immediately tightened against her soft neck, making it nearly impossible for her to breathe.

She went blue in the face whilst gagging and flailing her legs around desperately. Her brain being deprived of oxygen was what finally caused her to lose consciousness and as she slowly went limp, several onlookers lowered their heads in respect.

* * *

**Case Three**

"That...that's the one who killed my Ma, sir..."

It was those words from the girl, that doomed poor working man Caius and ensured that he now sat trembling in the electric chair.

"Let me go, I beg you..." He pleaded shakily after being strapped down against his will. "I've never met that little girl or any of her folks..."

"Shut up, Negro. You're gonna burn in Hell."

The man who now held Caius' life in his hands reached for a switch on the wall. Caius' bloodshot eyes grew so wide, one could be forgiven for fearing that they'd burst out.

"Oh, Lord. Help me..."

The switch was flicked and thousands of volts flooded through Caius at once. The pain was short-lived but excruciating to the point that he may as well have been brain dead, instead of under severe shock.

His body jolted so violently that he snapped free of his restraints and his own tongue was almost bitten off.

Blood streamed out from his mouth and other orifices while his nails charred. His hair caught fire and the flames quickly spread, the sight of which made many spectators sick to the stomach.

All the while, his pulse and breathing had become slow and irregular; a sign that he was still hanging on to life.

The second shock contained twice as many volts as the first. Caius simply fell to the floor in a convulsing heap and his face was burned so badly, flesh had begun falling off to reveal parts of his skull.


	5. Epilogue

"So, which one of us do you think won?" Ingrid piped up while sitting in the front of the car beside Curtis. He quickly glanced in her direction.

"You still want it to be a competition?"

"Wasn't it?"

Curtis looked up at the rear view mirror and caught a glimpse of Tony seated at the back, before he turned right.

"I'd say it was pretty boy there. But only because I'm a man too."

"You're being nice." Tony replied, though he did feel somewhat flattered. "I'd say it was Ingrid though. You know why."

"Tony, you don't find wrongful executions to be frightening? Imagine having to die because of the corruption of others..."

Tony sighed while looking out of the window and thinking about the current state of his life.

"I don't know. I guess it doesn't bother me as much as it should."

Ingrid kept her eyes ahead as she continued to speak.

"I wouldn't feel that way if I were you. You don't know how lucky you are..."

"What makes you think that? Aren't you happy?"

"Not really."

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

"No." Ingrid rebuffed immediately. "You wouldn't understand."

"Well, alright..." Tony said in resignation. "So, where to from here?"

"I thought we could go to the beach or something. It beats going straight home." Curtis spoke up, prompting his two passengers to sit up in surprise.

"The beach? But we haven't-"

"Who said we had to go swimming? We can stand on a dock and watch the waves."

"Whatever you say..."

* * *

Tony's hair was still wet when he arrived home as a result of unexpected rain from when he was at the beach. His mother Maria threw a wearisome but predictable fit upon seeing the state he was in.

"Look at you!" She fussed while throwing a towel over his head and firmly wiping away. "What sort of girl would want a man with hair like this?!"

"Mom, stop. I can do it myself..."

He shoved his mother's arms away and hurriedly evaded her attempt to catch him.

"Where are you going?! Why do you walk away every time I mention your future?!"

Tony had long since learned that it was pointless to argue with either of his parents about such things. He headed into the bathroom to begin blow-drying his hair in the hope that the noise would drown out Maria's voice.

"I raised you for twenty-one years so that I could get something in return! Sophia had already met her husband at your age, yet you have never brought a single girl home! Do you plan on becoming a monk?!"

"Mother, stop trying to rush me into things." Tony responded calmly, despite his inner unrest. "I've only just graduated. I need to find myself a decent job and earn enough money first, don't I?"

Maria's eyes and mouth widened as if she couldn't comprehend his words. She rushed forward in sympathy.

"Oh my son, money doesn't matter. I know a nice girl who will marry you anyway."

Tony abruptly stopped what he was doing. He could already guess who his mother had in mind.

"What's her name?"

"Don't you know? It's your friend, Dolores!"

He turned off the hairdryer and lowered his head in despair.

* * *

Curtis didn't say a word as he stayed behind the nurse whom had assisted his mother in the bathroom. A bright orange scarf had been tied around the woman's head to hide her hair loss and he felt his heart ache upon remembering the way she'd looked during his childhood.

"Baby, why do you keep coming here just to cry?" She whispered after being helped back into bed and noticing the tears in his eyes. "That's your father's job. You need to let go and build your own life."

His attempt to stay strong failed. He heard himself begin to cry, yet no longer cared whether it made him seem like less of a man.

"I'm not ready..." He murmured unsteadily. "You're only forty-one, Ma..."

"There, there..." She whispered, reaching out to lay her hand upon his head. "Wasn't there a girl you went to school with? I think Diane was her name..."

Curtis considered his mother's words before thinking back to his days in high school. He remembered Diane as the girl with the looks of a Motown star and whom had won the title of Homecoming Queen at the prom.

At the same time, he'd enjoyed being around Ingrid over the past year despite the color of her skin. The confirmation that she wasn't interested in boys like Tony or Don, only seemed like a further invitation for him to make some sort of move.

He planned out what he would say to her on the way back from the hospital. Even if she rejected him or things went far from well, he had a feeling that trying would still be worth it.

It was rather ironic to think that the first girl to show genuine interest in him as a person would be a blonde haired, blue eyed Swede whom had immigrated with her parents at the age of eight.

* * *

"I don't know what we would do without you..." Mrs Gustafsson said in admiration while standing back and watching her daughter roll minced meat up into little balls. "We almost want to keep you for ourselves."

Ingrid tried not to be bothered by her mother's praise and just focused on finishing quickly so that she could place the tray of meatballs into the oven.

"I just know you'll be an excellent wife one day. Tell me, is there anyone who has caught your eye lately?"

"Not really." Ingrid lied as she stepped away from the oven and settled again by the kitchen bench. "The only person I have ever liked turned out to be with somebody else..."

Mrs Gustafsson reached out to touch her daughter's hand sympathetically.

"I understand. I've been there too..."

Ingrid feigned a smile while pretending to be grateful for such reassurance, though the reality was that her parents were gullible enough to be fooled into believing that she functioned just like any other girl.

"You're right, mother. I just have to keep waiting, don't I?"


End file.
